


in the candlelight

by sinnabonka (orphan_account)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ficlets, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Short sketches, Sleeping like an angel, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21733258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sinnabonka
Summary: “It’s been just two months, Crowley, don’t be ridiculous.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, taking the light up to the demon’s face. The hair, way too long to grow in the time they didn’t see each other, was reaching out to his elbows. Soft red curls, like waves of the flaming sea, were reflecting the candlelight and looked ablaze.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	in the candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely Scara created something: https://scaramacaisstuff.tumblr.com/post/189517737270/how-could-an-angel-feel-about-a-demon-who-sleeps  
> And I wrote something too.

It was the second monthly meeting Crowley missed. A tiny nasty feeling, living inside angel’s chest, started to toss and turn, growing bigger.

Correct, there were times when they didn’t see each other for years, nothing to worry about. But that was before The Arrangement. Aziraphale was sure this had to mean at least something to the demon; he came up with the idea, after all.

 _Just to keep each other updated on business stuff_ , told Crowley then, offering a list of places they can meet at. It became a habit pretty quickly.

And now Crowley was gone.

Aziraphale glanced at his pocket watch one more time and looked around - still no sight of the demon’s presence. He tried to shut out the voice, whispering into his ear, but the truth was - he was indeed worried.

_What if Hell found out about our arrangement? What if other demons came for him? What if he simply crossed the wrong path, shook the wrong hand, and now is suffering and there’s no one to rescue him?_

“But what on Heaven’s sake can I do?” whispers Aziraphale, with the pulse humming in his temple. There’s only one place on Earth he can be sure to find Crowley at. And even though that seemed unlikely, Aziraphale calls a cab and gives the only address in London except for the bookshop’s he knows by heart.

  
Standing at the door, Aziraphale didn’t spend much time on hesitating. One quick snap of fingers and the door creaked open.

“Crowley!” Called the angel, but then reminded himself that there could be other demons - or even worse, _other angels_ \- it could still be dangerous in here.  
He sneaked down the corridors, pushed the bedroom door and allowed a quick sigh of relief out. There were no forces coming for them, not yet. The angel entered the room and a little smile curved his lips.

“Oh Crowley.” he took a candle from the dresser, lit it up by a little miracle and sat down on the edge of the bed. Only the thick silence answered him.  
Aziraphale took a good look at the room: the dark tangled sheets, the starry sky behind the window, the weird shadows on the walls, the pale face framed with long red hair…

“It’s been _just two months_ , Crowley, don’t be ridiculous.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, taking the light up to the demon’s face. The hair, way too long to grow in the time they didn’t see each other, was reaching out to his elbows. Soft red curls, like waves of the flaming sea, were reflecting the candlelight and looked ablaze.

 _“Oh.”_ escaped the angel’s mouth and not a single word after. His eyes were locked on Crowley’s calm pale face, on thin lips pressed together, on his forehead not wrinkled by thoughts and fears troubling his bright mind anymore.

Like hypnotized, Aziraphale was examining each soft flamelike curl, each carved in stone feature, the dark arches of brows. His hand, living its own life, not under control of his mind anymore, reached out to Crowley’s face. His fingertips slid from cheekbone down the lips, further to the pointy chin. The strong and invincible longings was tearing angel’s heart apart. 

Aziraphale sharply pulled away his hand from the demon’s face.

_He can’t look at him like this. It’s so wrong. He’s not allowed._

The angel got up from the bed and walked toward the door. Froze a step away from it, still clutching the candle in his hand. 

“Please, dear, let this be not one of those decade long naps of yours. _Good Lord_ , just imagine how long your hair will get!” the bitter crooked smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face. He sighed, not having it in him to turn around and lay another look on the serpent. Instead, he glanced at the fire, dancing on the edge of the wick, and added in despair: “Don’t leave me here alone, Crowley. Not again.”

He blew out the flame and placed the smoking candle on the dresser before walking away from the flat. Locking the door, he whispered:

“Come back to me, Crowley.”  
  
Hearing the footsteps fading away, the demon opened his eyes.


End file.
